Bring Me Close
by loveofallthatisawesome
Summary: Fang has liked Max since he first laid eyes on her. Unfortunately, despite his charm & easy way with girls, he's never been capable of asking Max out. She's rebellious, confident, & untouchable. Fang tries to break through to her, but his views on her make a 180 when he discovers the true Maximum Ride and how much everything he thinks he knows about her is a lie.
1. Untouchable

**CHAPTER 1: UNTOUCHABLE**

I don't party often. I mean, yeah it's fun to get drunk and do stupid shit every now and then, but there's something unappealing about the setting in general.

It's the people, really. They want to show off how much they can drink, how outgoing they can really be, and maybe get the courage to do something they'd never otherwise do. It was cool at first, but now it's just fucking annoying. But I'm not a hypocrite, so I'll admit that I'm here at this party for that last reason.

Otherwise, I wouldn't have come at all. I don't usually go to parties where I don't know the host, and I definitely don't know whose house this is. I think it's some chick named Stacy. I don't really know her, I don't talk to her, and I can only tell you for sure that she's a brunette. Other than that, I have nothing. I'm somewhat popular, like almost everyone at school knows who I am, and my party rep is widely known which is why a lot of people are looking at me like I might be an illusion.

So why did I come to this particular party? Well, that goes back to getting the courage to do something I'd never otherwise do. Which, for me, is finally talking to someone I've been wanting badly – like real bad – for a while now.

I've known her for four years now and not once have I had a conversation with her. We've said things like, "Can I borrow a pencil?", "What was the homework for English last night?", or "Are we going to have a test tomorrow?".

As you can tell those aren't the types of things you talk about with the person you like. That doesn't mean that I'm completely incompetent in dealing with girls; in fact, I've had my fair share of girlfriends over the years. Take Lissa, for example, the most popular girl at our school – or sluttiest, either works. I'd seen her for all of two seconds before I decided she would be my next girlfriend and so I went up to her, asked her out, and then we were dating. We went out for 3 months before I broke up with her.

So, the reason I haven't asked this girl out isn't because I am incapable, or I don't know how, it's just that…she's different. And not the typical, oh she dresses differently, she speaks her mind, and all that other bullshit. She is _so_ unlike every other girl I've met that I'm actually nervous around her. She's untouchable. It's common knowledge. She's sexy, sarcastic, confident, and so much more. This combination is what makes her untouchable, and so how do you even ask out the untouchable girl?

Normally, I'd still be trying to come up with some plan so I knew that she would go out with me, but then something happened: she switched schools.

She was more than popular at school, she was envied (most of the girls) and loved (most of the guys) by everyone. She was – no – still _is_ perfect. So when she left, _everyone _knew. Rumor has it that her family was becoming richer and their house wasn't big enough, so they moved to one of the mansions on the outskirts of town and therefore had to switch to her new zone school.

There went my carefully planned strategies and the time I needed. So here I am, one month into my senior year, with no plan and just ready to wing it. It'd been talked about in school that she was going to be at this party because her best friend was cousins with Stacy and so I ditched all my prejudices about parties and decided to make my appearance.

But so far she's been nowhere in sight.

"Hey dude," my best friend, Iggy, says as he nudges me, a beer in one hand. "Loosen up, talk to some people. You look like you're going to burn a hole through the door if you stare at it any harder."

I shrug him off and maintain my position on the couch, a pretty blonde at my side. "I am talking to people," I mutter, gesturing to her. She gives me a lazy smile, already buzzed off of whatever liquor she had in her red cup.

He glances at her, unimpressed. "Right," he deadpans and then grabs me by the shoulders and gives me a slight shake, some of his beer sloshing onto my arm. "Dude, relax! She'll be here, and when she does, you'll be the first to know."

I sigh. Iggy is the only who knows about my…crush, and I like to keep it that way. Otherwise, everyone would think I'm a wuss for making such a big deal over it. But I am starting to look like a buzzkill, so I stand up. "All right. It's not like she'll just come and go. I'm going to get something to drink," I tell him, and then walk away as he grins in satisfaction.

Another thing about high school parties: no one can ever manage to get any of the good shit. So I'm left with either cheap beer or $9 vodka. Vodka with cranberry juice it is. As I'm filling up my cup, a quiet murmur starts to circulate around the house. It's weird that this is even occurring when the music is clearly loud enough to get the neighbors annoyed, and everyone is yelling, but there's almost a different, tangible energy in the air.

"I can't believe she really showed up, this is awesome!" a boy practically screeches next to me, probably a junior. I have half a mind to roll my eyes at this, you can always tell when someone is new to the party scene, but it's his words that stop me. There can only be one person who can get everybody hyped up like this. Only one person who can liven up a party and can cause a sort of giddiness to go through the air.

I carefully grab my drink, take a deep breath, and head to the living room. And it's true. Standing by the door with her two best friends, stands the one and only, the untouchable Maximum Ride.

It takes me a moment to compose myself after the initial jolt of electricity I felt running through me at the sight of her.

Maximum Ride is perfection.

I'd be shocked if you could find a girl better looking than her. Her long, straight brown hair reaches the middle of her back and is accentuated by small streaks of natural blonde – something many girls have tried to replicate but have been unable to. She has a straight, narrow nose, and her lips are a perfect cupid's bow. God, I've dreamed of kissing those lips probably a thousand times since I first saw her.

But her eyes. She has wide, almond shaped eyes, the color of golden brown with green rays stemming out from the pupil – I know this because she sat in front of me once and when she turned to pass me some papers I was instantly captivated. Eyes like those do not belong on this earth.

She's perfect all around. She has fair skin – I've never seen a single blemish on her skin – and she's tall. Like 5'9" tall. Which would make her only four inches shorter than me. And her body. I could go on and on about her body forever, but I'll just say that I've never seen a girl make muscle look sexier.

She was perfection indeed. And perfection was escaping me.

As my mind burned with the image of her, I hadn't noticed that she was now gone. In her place now stood a bunch of underclassmen that I couldn't care less for. Damn it.

I swallow the liquid in my drink, practically burning my throat, and push through the crowd and the dancing people as I make my way over to where I believe she might have gone. But once I arrive, the second living room, I notice that she's not even there.

God, I've seen her many times throughout the years and I never fail to stop and stare, and now my opportunity was slowly closing because of my inability to not marvel at her.

I catch up to Iggy when I see him in the backyard by the pool.

"Max is here," I tell him without preamble.

He grins knowingly. "Do you need some encouraging words?"

I stare at him. "No." But maybe they would be helpful. But no. "I lost her."

"Oh," he says, nodding his head like he knew the perfect solution. "Have you looked through the entire house?"

I scratch the back of my head. "Well, no. I want you to text Nudge and ask her where she's at." Nudge was one of Max's best friend, and was apparently very close to Iggy. Something I found out the day before.

"Ah, very good idea," he confirms with a complacent grin. He's drunk. Iggy isn't the type to go crazy when drunk. He acts mellow and all-knowing. Which is great because at least I don't have to stop him from doing stupid things. He takes out his phone and texts. A second later he receives a message. They must be _really_ close. "She says they're chilling up in the attic."

I nod and grin.

Iggy laughs. "Dude, I swear, if I didn't know any better I'd say that you love this chick. But you've never really met her so that's not true."

My grin is replaced by a scowl. "Don't remind me," I answer, begrudgingly. "But that's changing tonight."

As I start to walk away, I notice that Iggy is following me. "What are you doing?" I ask him.

He chuckles. "I'm going up to see Nudge. It's time for me and her to get reacquainted, if you know what I mean." And then he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. So that's their connection.

I laugh and shove him towards the door. "I knew you guys couldn't have an innocent friendship."

"Hey!" he shouts as we make our way up the stairs. "I wanted to keep it innocent, she was the one who suggested we go further."

"Right."

We climb up the three stories until we finally arrive at the door to the attic. The nerves start getting to me. Max is in there. She's probably being superior standing by the wall with multiple guys trying to get at her. She's probably ignoring them, like she'll do to me. I've never been insecure, but Max has this way of making everyone else feel like they're not good enough and I'm no exception.

But then Iggy pushes the door open and I need to stop thinking because Max isn't standing by the wall, but rather is playing pool and it's her turn.

She's bent at the waist, her butt in our direction, which I'll admit is a beautiful view, and the room is relatively silent except for some R&B song playing quietly in the background and the sound of table hockey being played by Angel and Nudge, Max's friends.

Iggy leaves me to pursue Nudge and I'm left by the door. I shut it, but I can't move. Four years of trying to talk to her, and I've finally come to the moment. I'd just have to wait for her to finish her game and then approach her before anyone else does. But that's easier said than done.

Before I realize it, I'm moving towards the center of the room, to where the pool table is. I stand off by the side and watch the game. She's got perfect form, and every time she shoots, it's smooth and quick, the ball swiftly going into the hole.

I whistle appreciatively after she sinks in the eight ball, and I want to slap myself almost immediately, because seriously, who whistles anymore? She glances up at me, through long eyelashes, with those entrancing eyes and I almost feel myself stop breathing.

I smirk, knowing that many girls find it sexy. "You're good," I tell her.

She lifts herself up, hands the cue stick to some guy for the next game and comes to stand in front of me. Jeez, I can feel my heartbeat getting faster. Can I get any more pathetic? She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow.

"Nick, right?" she asks, and for a moment I'm so stunned that she's even remembered my name that I forget to speak. She smiles mockingly and turns to leave, but then I say, "Fang."

She stops and stares at me. "What?"

I cough somewhat discretely, trying to diminish any chances of my voice cracking. "My name's Nick, but everyone calls me Fang."

She smiles slightly and says, "Interesting nickname." Then she begins to leave again, but I can't let her, or else I've lost all my chances.

"So Max," I say, following her. She doesn't even look surprised that I know her name. Everyone knows her. "Where'd you learn to play like that?"

She eyes me from the corner of her eye and smirks. Is it weird that I find this incredibly hot?

She shrugs.

"I like to practice my shots on the weekends," she answers simply in her smooth voice. It's not high like a girl's usually is, but it's deep enough to make her sound seductive, almost. She doesn't need to seduce me, I'm ready and willing.

"Oh, really," I say, nonchalantly. I don't want to come off as desperate like so many other guys that she rejects. "Somewhere like Jenna's?" but I know as soon as the words leave my mouth that I've said the wrong thing.

She stiffens and glares at me. There's a reason she's untouchable; she's not the type of person you would want to mess with. But I'm not going to cower before her, so I maintain a stoic mask. "What makes you think I would go _there?"_

I shrug. "It's close, convenient, and cheap?" I didn't mean it as a question, but my self-esteem is going down in her presence.

She narrows her eyes. "You and everyone else knows that that place is worth shit."

Of course! I forgot. That place is owned by her ex-boyfriend's father, and after she broke up with him, that place became forbidden. No one went there anymore. It was a miracle the place was even open still.

"Well, it's the only cue club in town," I comment, trying to get any hatred she might have for me to go away.

"There's The Crawl," she says, looking away and then going through some doors to what looks like a huge balcony.

_The Crawl?_ That's…wow. I quickly make my way to her and lean against the railing to look at her. She's gazing at the pool and I can see it reflected in her eyes. God, she's beautiful.

"Isn't that…dangerous?" I ask finally, confused.

Dangerous doesn't even begin to cover that place. The Crawl is a couple of miles outside of town, and definitely not worth the trip. I'd been there, once, last year. It has a biker feeling to it. Everything's dark, there are big, muscular men walking around with fierce beards, and complicated tattoos, the smell of cigarettes lingers in the air, and the men there aren't afraid to start up a fight if they think that you don't belong. Needless to say, I stayed for about five minutes before I walked on out without looking back.

Which is why it's surprising that Max would go there every weekend.

She gives a short, humorless laugh. "That's part of the fun. The risk, the probability of trouble, the chance that you could either lose all your money or get rich," she says, sounding like she's mocking me.

"You _gamble?_" I ask without thinking. I scoff. "Of course you do. What's the point of playing pool if you're not going to get something out of it."

"Or maybe I go for the company and the money is just a bonus," she says, smiling. She has a killer smile.

"Right," I answer. Then she faces me and grins, which inadvertently prompts me to continue speaking. "Because dealing with men who could possibly kill you is the most fun you can have in this town," I say sarcastically.

She shrugs. "It's what I like. And besides, they're not all bad."

I laugh. She's obviously joking.

"Well, now that it's established that you're a total badass," she smiles at that, "can I ask why you're up here instead of downstairs with the party?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she counters.

"There are more interesting people up here," I tell her pointedly, with a grin. Her smile falters a little. Okay, so maybe she doesn't like flirting. "And anyway, everyone's probably at the point where they can't even stand up anymore."

She's silent for a few seconds and then says, "Not many can hold their liquor well."

"And you can?"

"I've had some practice," is all she says.

"Do you like it?" I ask after a while.

"Drinking?" she asks. I nod. "I don't know," she confesses. "It doesn't taste that great, but it's fun sometimes, and it helps a lot," she adds softly.

"How does it help?" I then realize she didn't mean for me to hear when her eyes widen and she steps back a little.

"Oh, to, um…for some people it helps to come out of their shell, I guess," she says. I've never heard Max stammer before. It's…different, but I like it. So she's not always cool and collected.

"I was thinking that, too, earlier. It lets people do things they never would have done before." Like what I'm doing now, I add mentally.

"Yeah, that," she says with a sense of finality. Then she straightens up and says, "Listen, Fang, I gotta get going. There's other parties I have to attend." Then she turns and leaves before I can say something. She looks back just as she passes the doors and says, "Nice meeting you."

I stay standing where I was. "Yeah, nice meeting you," I mutter. Fuck! I was supposed to ask her out.

I hurry after her, and I see her going through the game room. She calls Nudge once I catch up to her.

"Wait," I tell her. She looks at me, surprised. It's now or never. "Do you think we can go out sometime?"

Her lips press together into a thin line and then she smiles sadly and asks, "Like a date?" sounding more like a statement than a question.

"Well, yeah, I guess," I tell her, putting my hands in my jean pockets. I've heard this is my cool pose.

She looks like she's thinking about it and then tells me, "You seem like a cool guy, Fang, but I'm not looking for that type of relationship." She smirks and then walks out. Nudge follows, looking at me with a pitiful stare.

I'm left with just an empty feeling in my chest and the realization that I just got rejected by the girl I've been pining over for the past four years.

Well, _fuck_.

* * *

_Disclaimer: Characters are owned by James Patterson_

_This is my new story. If you are reading this, can you please tell me if you like Fang's POV? I'm trying it in 1st person and I feel a little awkward right now, because I'm not a guy, so yeah let me know if it sounds okay. I can't guarantee quick updates, but I'll try. _


	2. Get Over It

**CHAPTER 2: GET OVER IT**

Later, Iggy finds me in the kitchen. There's this girl sitting on the counter with her legs spread open and I'm standing between them. No, we're not doing anything inappropriate – yet – and yes, we are still fully clothed. She's playing with my hair and my fingers are lightly skimming the skin between her tank top and her shorts. It's soft. And I'm drunk.

I hadn't planned on drinking much, but you try being rejected by the girl of your dreams and then refuse to drink your sorrows away. There was enough booze around to make you forget anything.

The girl, Monica I think her name is, leans in and whispers in my ear, "You're _really_ hot." And then she begins to giggle uncontrollably.

I chuckle and pull her closer to me, the curves of her body pressing satisfactorily against my chest.

Iggy puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me back a little, but this causes Monica to pull me towards her and then it's like they're playing tug-a-war. But swaying while drunk is not good so I pull away from them both.

I raise an eyebrow at Iggy and pull Monica down from the counter.

"Hey man," Iggy calls when I step towards the crowded living room.

"Yeah?" I say, annoyed. I really want to take Monica up to one of the empty rooms.

"What's going on?" he asks and then looks pointedly between Monica and I.

"What does it look like?" I snap.

He shakes his head solemnly and then pulls Monica out of my grasp. She smiles up at him drunkenly and Iggy tells her, "Hey, why don't you wait for us in the other room? I need to talk to Fang here."

"Okay," she slurs with drowsy eyes, and leaves us, stumbling over empty cups.

I'm too slow to react so I let her go. But then I shove Iggy and yell, "The fuck, man?"

Iggy stumbles back but doesn't do anything. But fuck, I want him to do something. I want him to punch me, I want him to give me a reason to fight, but he just stands there looking at me like he's disappointed.

I breathe in heavily, staring at him, willing him to do something. But he doesn't. I exhale. "What do you want?"

He puts up his hands defensively, and I notice his eyes are drowsy too. "You don't want to do this. You don't want to fight me and you don't want to fuck that girl."

"I'm pretty sure I did want to have sex with that girl, actually," I tell him, because honestly I did. She was there, we're drunk, and we were clearly building up to that final stage.

"No, man, I was there," Iggy says, placing a hand on my shoulder. I forgot about being mad at him. His dark blonde eyebrows draw together in concern. "I know it hurts, but this isn't the way to cure your broken heart."

At first I'm thinking _Of course he was there, he stopped it from happening_, but then I realize he's talking about Max. And suddenly I want to drink again. I want to drink until I can't remember it anymore. The shame overwhelms me and I find myself to be exhausted.

My shoulders droop and Iggy pushes me towards some vacant chairs. We sit down, facing each other. He rests his forearms on his legs, leans forward and clasps his hands together.

"Talk to me," he orders.

Normally I would think this was weird, but all my intellect has left me and so I say, "She said no. Four years. _Four years._ And she said no like all that time doesn't even matter."

Never mind the fact that she didn't know about those four years – it still hurt.

Iggy shakes his head pitifully. "Rejection sucks, but hey, she doesn't deserve you!" His eyes start looking more bloodshot than usual. "She doesn't know what she's missing out on. If I were a girl I would totally go out with you," he says adamantly.

I look up at him. "Really?" My self-esteem is pretty low right now.

He nods frantically. "Yeah, and you know what? I ended it with Nudge."

I feel like a douche. Here I am whining about a girl I never had and he actually lost someone. "I'm sorry, Iggy," I tell him truthfully.

"Don't be sorry. I ended it for _you._"

I sit up straight. This is going in a direction I hadn't really expected ever in my life. But how to break it to him. "Uh, listen, Iggy. I love you, you know that. But like a brother. I mean, it's cool that you're gay, but I'm not." I scratch the back of my head awkwardly. I never saw this coming.

Iggy stares at me with wide eyes. Shit. I just rejected him too. Now we're both going to be sorry, pitiful losers.

And then he starts laughing. Some people passing by stare at us; me stricken, and Iggy laughing so hard his face is starting to turn red.

When he finally calms down, he smiles and says, "I love you too bro, but I'm not gay. I told Nudge to put in a good word for you to Max, and she said no because Max wouldn't listen to her. So when she rejected you, I rejected Nudge too." He smiles proudly and I have to say, I _am_ proud of him.

I have a strange urge to hug him, but people are still looking at us weirdly, and I have a reputation to uphold, so no.

"You are seriously my best friend," I tell him. Because how many guys do you know that will willingly give up a girl just because she didn't want to put in a good word for his best friend? That's right, zero.

"I know," he pauses and he sways on his chair precariously. "Hold on." Then he stands up and leaves the room only to come back a few seconds later with two cups in his hand. He hands one to me. "I'm starting to feel kind of sober and I still need to impart some words of wisdom to you." I grin and we down the liquid rapidly. My stomach starts to burn.

"Alright," Iggy says, "for each of these questions, I want you to answer honestly." I nod. "Did Max reject you?"

I raise an eyebrow, somewhat mad that he would bring it up again. "You already know this – "

"Just answer the question."

I groan. This is pointless. "Yeah." He nods.

"Did this rejection hurt?"

"More than it should have," I mumble, crossing my arms.

"Did she live up to your expectations during your short conversation?"

"Unfortunately, yes," I confess.

"Do you realize that you have to move on?"

I hesitate. But Iggy is waiting for what should be my obvious answer. "Yes." _No._

"Are you going to move on?"

"Yes." _As if I can._

"Are you going to date a sexy girl who will completely take your mind off of Maximum "Loser" Ride, and you will live a happily ever after life?"

_She's not a loser. _"Yeah." _And I could never find a girl better than her._

"Then it's settled," he says, clearly satisfied with himself. "After tonight, your longstanding crush will be over and you will move on."

I stare at him. He makes it seem like it's so easy. As if I could just say, 'Oh yeah, forget Max. Who cares if I pined over her for four years and now that she's rejected me I'm just going to give up.' It's not that easy.

"Wow, and here I thought you guys came to these parties to get laid. Not to share some intimate alone time," someone says from the door and starts laughing. I turn slowly because the world is moving, and I swear if I move any faster I'm going to fall off of the chair.

Gazzy stands right there, holding a can of soda, and grinning like the Cheshire cat. What the hell is he doing here?

Iggy goes into protective older brother mode and echoes my thoughts. "Why the hell are you here? Does Mom know where you are right now? Do _you _know where you're at right now?"

Gazzy rolls his eyes. "I'm not the one who's drunk, of course I know where I'm at. And yeah, Mom does know where I'm at because she sent me to pick you guys up."

Iggy and I share a look. "Why?" we ask at the same time, which is really weird, but again I'm not myself tonight. I need a snicker bar.

Gazzy moves towards us. "You butt-dialed her and she was concerned because apparently you and Fang were fighting." _Oh. _"But I see now that it was just a lover's quarrel," and then he bursts out laughing, holding his stomach like he just said the world's most hilarious joke. Iggy and I remain quiet.

We stand up, slowly and with great care, because I'm serious, the world is _moving._

Gazzy starts walking away and calls out, "Hurry up, let's go. This party's over anyway."

We walk into the living room and notice that he's right. There are literally only like five people left dancing to some type of slow music and about ten passed out on the floor.

We edge towards the front door, where Gazzy disappeared into, stumbling over sleeping bodies and knocking over tables and paintings. I'd usually be more mindful of these things, but the entire room is trashed – no one's going to take notice of a few other things knocked over. Feeling momentarily reckless, I head towards a coat rack, fling everything off, placing some hats on a couple of people on the floor, and then lay it down on the sofa.

When I go outside I have to shield my eyes from the brightness. I look around and finally spot Iggy and Gazzy arguing next to Iggy's mom's car.

As I approach them I hear their conversation.

"- don't even have your permit yet!" Iggy was yelling at Gazzy.

Gazzy groans exasperatedly. "I drove on the way over here! And you're drunk anyway."

"But I have my license," he retorts, still swaying slightly. I understood the problem here.

I walk in between, causing them to shut up and I take the keys from Gazzy. "You guys are both right about each other. So I'll drive."

Iggy gasps. Gazzy stares at me like I'm stupid – which I'm not, I'll let you know I'm both book smart and street smart.

Iggy pushes me aside and 'whispers' to Gazzy, but really I can hear him loud and clear. "He's even worse off. He's drunk _and _heartbroken. He might do something stupid and drive us off a cliff in his attempt to escape the pain of rejection."

I scoff. I'm not going to do that. First off, I'm not emo. Secondly, suicide is one thing I would never ever do, well along with drugs. Say no to drugs and all that. And murder-suicide is just stupid. But then Iggy straightens up and proclaims loudly, "You go ahead and drive, Gazzy. I'll make sure the Fangster doesn't decide to suddenly jump out of the car once it's moving." Then he hauls me into the back seat and puts my seatbelt on me.

I slap his hands away. "When did I get put under suicide-watch?"

Iggy puts on his own seatbelt. "I know you're not an emotional guy, Fang, but I'm here for you. It's always the silent guys who end up shooting the school, you know?"

I stare at him. Iggy may act mellow and all-knowing, but that's all it is: an act. Because he doesn't know shit. Before I know it, I'm falling asleep as we drive off into the sunrise.

**.**

The school feels empty. Well, for me anyway. Everyone else is going on like life usually does, but I'm still stuck on two weeks ago. Two weeks ago, when it was announced that Max had changed schools. Two weeks ago, when that same night I was rejected by that very girl. The very girl I practically worshipped. Depression has hit me hard.

So I must go to where I can feel wanted.

I make my way towards the table where I usually sit at with my friends. Everyone's already there, so apparently I'm the last one.

As I get closer I notice bright red hair. I slow down and glance at Iggy. He shrugs apologetically, but I can tell he didn't tell me on purpose. I contemplate running out of the cafeteria, but then she turns around and once she sees me standing not ten feet away she grins and jumps out of her chair and her arms are suddenly around my neck.

"Lissa," I state, holding my breath so that I don't die from all the toxic fumes emanating from her body. I want to feel wanted, but not _this _much. My vision is obscured by her curly mane, but I can still hear Iggy's laughter in the background. I'll get him back for this.

She steps back, still keeping her hands on me somehow, and gives me a hard smile. "Fang," she says forcefully. "We need to talk," she demands and then she grabs my hand and pulls me across the cafeteria, through groups of people - disrupting their conversations -, and until we're standing outside near a tree. What was I supposed to do, yank my hand away, scorn her, and walk away? I was raised with manners.

She finally lets go of me, so I put my hands in my pockets so she can't touch me again. I'm not averse to a female's touch, but once you get to know Lissa you don't really want her anywhere near you. She crosses her arms and scowls at me.

"I need you to come to my family's party."

I'm taken aback, but I hide this by nonchalantly asking, "What for?"

She exhales through her nose, making her look like a bull. She takes time to answer I notice, and I already know I'm not going to like what she has to say. Lissa is a huge liar. One of the many reasons I broke up with her. "I need a date, and you are the only one qualified."

I stare at her disbelievingly. "Are you crazy? No," I practically yell, which I can tell embarrasses her because she looks around quickly before settling back to my face. "If I go with you, you are going to assume we're dating again, and I already told you we're done. For good."

I step back for good measure, just in case she thinks that just because we're in close proximity it means she can treat me like her boyfriend again, which really isn't a great thing. At all.

I can see the mechanisms of her mind turning and soon enough she says, "Fine. You know what? My parents still think we're going out and they really want you to go. They really liked you."

I don't even know what to say. It's just like Lissa to pull shit like this. "We broke up in May," I protest. "That was four months ago! How could they still think we're going out?" I sometimes wonder if Lissa is psychotic; this is one of those times.

"Oh my God, Fang, calm down," she sputters, glancing around again, her face turning slightly red. "Okay, so maybe I forgot to tell them, it's not such a big deal."

"Actually, yeah it is a big deal, because I'm _not _going out with you anymore and haven't been for a while."

She rolls her eyes as if I'm being melodramatic, but seriously, sometimes I wonder why I ever went out with her to begin with. "Fine, just go with me this one time, and I swear I'll tell them that we broke up right afterwards." I glare at her. "Please?" she begs, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

I sigh. "When is it?"

She squeals, probably thinking I'm conceding. I grimace. "Oh, thank you Fang!"

"I said, 'when is it?'," I grind out, frustrated beyond belief with her.

"Next Saturday."

"I can't," I respond quickly. Her grin falters and soon she's frowning.

"What?" she snarls.

I shrug, satisfied that I'm getting her mad. "I said I can't. I can't go that day."

"Why not?" she demands, putting her hands on her hips like an angry housewife. Actually, I think once she gets married, if she ever manages to get that far in a relationship, that'll probably be her full time stance.

"I have to work."

She huffs. "Since when do you have a job?"

"You don't need to know that."

"You're lying, then," she accuses, a smug grin overtaking her features.

"I'm not. I work all day on weekends, so I can't go."

"Where?"

I scoff. "You think I'm going to tell you so you can stalk me?"

"Fang, this isn't funny. Just come this one time, and I'll be done with you," she implores, sounding exhausted. Well, I'm tired of her too.

"Nope, we've been done. Now leave me alone," and with that I turn and leave. I can still hear her frustrated cries as I walk back into the cafeteria. I smile inwardly.

I know I should feel bad for treating her that way, and trust me, if it were some other girl I would, but Lissa was lying. That's what she does. She was not going to tell her parents that we had broken up, she'd probably tell them to start saving up for the wedding. I shudder.

I sit down next to Iggy. He's telling everyone about something he built with Gazzy over the weekend. As soon as he finishes, he turns to me and asks, "What was that all about?"

I glare at him, but then shake my head in disdain. "Basically her parents still think we're going out, and I need to get a job so she doesn't realize I was lying to her."

Iggy snickers. "She's a crazy bitch, I don't know why you ever went out with her."

I shrug. "Because Max wasn't available."

Iggy rolls his eyes. "Like you would've done anything if she was, anyway aren't you supposed to be moving on? I gave you good quality advice and this is how you take it?" He scoffs exaggeratedly. "That's the last time I help you out."

"You were drunk so it doesn't count."

He sighs in melancholy. "I still can't believe I cock-blocked you. I still can't believe I cock-blocked _myself_. Next time I reject a pretty girl for a stupid reason, take every alcoholic beverage away from me." He crosses his arms on the table and then lowers his head and begins to mockingly cry.

"Yeah, I know, you're pathetic, and I hate you too," I tell him. Seriously, though. He ruined a perfectly good opportunity for both of us.

Later that day, as we leave school, I ask Iggy, "Hey, do you think that diner by Gloria park is hiring?"

Iggy looks at me like I'm crazy. "Why do you wanna work there? It's so far no one even goes out…there….oh," he nods in understanding. Iggy knows me so well. Of course I want to work in a place where I wouldn't have to interact with people often. I'd get paid for just walking around. "Eh, go for it. It can't hurt to apply, but if you get hired I'm expecting free meals."

I roll my eyes. "I can get you free water."

"Water's always free."

"That's why."

We go our separate ways. I head home, change into some more formal clothes, and then go to that diner. It's literally half an hour away from the town.

Whoever said good looks aren't enough in the real world, has never met me. I walk out of the diner with a new job as a waiter, and a new outlook on life. Well, not really, but at least now I get money, a reason to be away from Lissa all the time, and something to occupy my mind from depressing thoughts about Max. Because I don't care what Iggy says, getting over her will not be easy.

* * *

_Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson, and I do not own Snickers. _

_For some reason this came out as mostly a bromance between Fang and Iggy, but the chapter actually moves the plot along. Max will be in the next chapter. Thanks to everyone who subscribed, and reviewed - I really do appreciate it :D _

_Share your comments, thoughts, reactions in a..._**REVIEW**?


	3. Late Night Surprises

**CHAPTER 3: LATE NIGHT SURPRISES**

"Nick!" my mom yells from downstairs. "Dinner's ready!"

I groan, I just want to sleep. I worked 6 hours last night and then I was doing my homework until dawn. By the time I finished, it was time for school. Maybe getting a job wasn't the best solution for avoiding Lissa.

"Nick!" she calls again a couple of minutes later, this time with a hint of irritation. That's my mom for you, impatient. I roll out of bed, untangling myself as I go. Sometimes I wonder if my life would be better if I just laid in bed all day. Under my blankets, laying down, in blissful sleep. But then I realize it'd be a really sucky life, and I get up.

I walk down the stairs slowly, letting my feet fall like lead on each step, hopefully to make my mom actually mad. I love my mom, but I'm pissed off because I wanted to sleep.

In the kitchen, my dad is sitting at the end of the table looking through a stack of papers. My mom has already served the food.

I pull out a chair noisily and plop down, feeling my mom's reprimanding gaze on me.

My dad glances up, looking as weary as I feel, in fact we look pretty identical right now. We have the exact same features almost, black hair, dark eyes, olive skin tone, and kind of tall and lanky. At least he could never question whether or not I'm actually his son.

Not that he would ever have reason to, mind you, my mom is a respectable woman. I'm just pointing out facts here.

He drops the papers once my mom coughs purposely. We don't say grace. We're not that type. But we _are_ naturally a silent family, so talking with us is minimal, but my mom's trying to change that because she says we don't communicate enough. So she starts, "How was your day, honey?" My parents have this bad habit of calling each other pet names. A result of being high school sweethearts, I guess.

My dad continues eating his pasta, but then eventually announces, with a grin on his face, "We got four new clients today."

My dad started a new company that develops computer programs a few of years ago, and it's still growing so any new client is good news.

My mom smiles at him. Then she looks at me expectantly. I sigh. I truly am happy, I just didn't expect that I would have to say anything. So I tell him, "That's great, dad." Oh yeah, that's me, a man of many words.

"This company is going to be a huge success, I tell you," my dad says enthusiastically. He is _really_ proud of what he's done. And I'm happy for him, because really I'm the reason he is only starting to do this now. If they hadn't gotten pregnant with me when they were 17, he could've been a huge success earlier. But fate had other plans. He turns to me and smiles broadly. "Soon enough you'll be going to business school and learning the trades, then you can come work with me." My hand stills, holding the fork, wrapped around with pasta, near my mouth.

"Oh, that'd be just perfect," my mom adds, looking at us adoringly. I put my hand down slowly. "Father and son, working together, right Nick?"

I take a gulp my water and then nod once. "Yeah," I tell them. "I can't wait."

Then we fall silent again and resume eating. But I can feel despair settling in. Because I don't want to work with my dad. I don't want to go to business school. And I definitely do not want to have anything to do with that profession. But I'll disappoint my parents if I don't, so I knew that I would.

As soon as I finish my dinner, I get a text message. I'm about to pull out my phone from my pocket and read it when my mom says, smiling, "Is that the girl you like?"

I forget everything I'm doing and stare at my mom, confused. I don't usually tell my mom about the girls I like or even date, so this is weird. "What? What girl?"

She rolls her eyes and smiles at me knowingly. "The girl from your drawings."

I feel my heart skip a beat and my jaw tightens. "You were looking through my drawings," I state, deadly calm. But really, I'm mad.

She waves her hand, dismissing my tone. "You're just like your dad." I glance at him; he's gone back to looking through his papers. "So concerned with your privacy. And no, I went into your room to borrow your ipod and your book was open on a drawing of a very pretty girl."

It was Max, I realize. Well, my mom was spot on with her observation, but I'm not going to tell her that. I shake my head. "She's just a model I saw online, I don't know her," I lie.

"Oh," she says, disappointed. "I thought you were finally over that girl with the red hair."

"Lissa?" I ask, incredulously. I laugh. "Mom, if she comes around don't let her in. Don't even talk to her." She raises an eyebrow.

I shrug. "She can't take a hint."

She grins. "Oh, I've known a few girls like that." My dad laughs. "Back when I was in high school I had to practically fight girls off of your dad all –"

"Okay, that's great," I say quickly. When speaking about their early relationship, my mom likes to talk a lot, but unfortunately for her, I don't like to hear it. "I have to go now."

I practically run up to my room, shuddering. The last time she talked about their early relationship, she started to explain how my dad convinced her to have sex with him. Oh god, just thinking about it makes me want to throw up.

I look around my room for my uniform since I have to go to work in an hour. Then my phone beeps again. I pull it out and see that the messages are from Iggy.

The first one says: _dude, u up 4 a prty?_

Then the next: _u have 5 min 2 answer b4 I go w/o u_

Is it really that hard to just write out the entire word? I text back: _Can't. I have to work right now._

A couple of seconds later, as I'm changing into the formal black pants, I receive another text: _total buzzkill, bro_

I ignore it, and soon I'm heading downstairs. As I pass by the kitchen, my parents are still in there, I yell, "I'm leaving. Don't wait up for me."

I run to my car and back out of the driveway before they can say anything. My parents don't like that I work the graveyard shift, and never fail to tell me so whenever they can.

**.**

"Nick, I need you to wash the dishes," Sally tells me. I look back at her and frown. _I'm not a dishwasher, I'm a waiter,_ I want to tell her, but I can't because she knows that and the guy who usually washes dishes didn't show up, so I have to.

I head into the backroom and slip on some gloves. They don't do much against the scathing hot water, but at least I won't have my skin peeling off. I finish an hour later. I really think I should get paid extra for that; it wasn't in my job description.

It's about three am now and there's no one in the diner except for this big guy who's just drinking coffee. So I go back to where the cook is. He's a cool guy, but he always seems depressed. He's always looking at the food sadly like he can't believe he's not allowed to eat it. Actually, that's a good reason to be sad.

I'm not allowed to eat either, but I grab a waffle anyway. Not like anyone will notice.

But I have to be wrong, don't I? "Nick!" Sally yells, and I drop my waffle immediately, landing with the syruped side down. Damn her. I straighten up from where I was leaning on the back counter and glare at her.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't look at me like that, you're not supposed to be eating anything in here." I still glare at her. The last thing I had eaten was the pasta almost nine hours ago and I'm starving. She looks down at her notepad and orders, "I need you to bring out a raspberry iced tea to table 3." She looks down. "And clean that up." Then she leaves.

I pick up the waffle, but I don't bother to mop up the sticky residue. That's what she gets for making me drop it in the first place.

I don't know why she couldn't have just made the iced tea. It's not hard. But she's the boss so I have to do what she says. I take a long time, too, because she's putting me in an even worse mood. I put it on a tray, because it's mandatory, and head out already dreading having to be polite and social at this hour.

I look around, trying to spot the person and I finally see someone with a hoodie on and hunched over the table. I scoff, only freaks come here this late, and this person's no exception.

Once I'm at the table, I set the drink down. "Here's your raspberry iced tea, sir. If you need anything else, just ask," I mumble, already starting to walk away.

"Ma'am."

I turn around and stare at the man. Is he stupid? "I'm a guy," I tell him, stoically.

Then he looks up. "And I'm a girl," _she _says, and I nearly drop the tray.

It's Max.

And I just called her a guy. I called her a 'sir'. Of all the bad luck…I want to run out of here. I want to go bang my head against a wall repeatedly until all the stupidity is out of me, but I'm not the type to react quickly, so I stand there like an idiot.

When she looks back down, I manage to say, "Sorry, I didn't realize it was you."

"Obviously," she says without her usual mirth. I frown.

"Well," I say, glad that I'm not stuttering or anything. "Enjoy your drink." Then I walk away. I want to go back and ask if she remembers me, but how embarrassing is that? What would she say? _Oh yeah, you're that loser I rejected a couple of weeks ago. You can leave now._

I slump against the wall on the other side of the diner so she doesn't see me. Like she'd be looking at me anyway.

What is she even doing here anyway? It's Friday night, which means she should be out doing things that Maximum Ride is known for doing, like crashing a party, beating up some people, or _something_. But instead she's at a crappy diner with a baggy hoodie on, which makes her look a little like a man in my defense, and she's drinking a raspberry iced tea, which really is a wimpy drink. She could've ordered something with alcohol in it and I would've served it to her anyway, even if that got me fired.

After ten minutes I notice that she hasn't even touched the drink since I set it down. Just because she can't see me doesn't mean I can't see her. In fact, now that I think of it, with all the mortification I felt in not noticing it was her who I was speaking to, I didn't even realize that her eyes were kind of red when she looked at me. Was she drunk? Or even worse, high?

I grimace. I hope not.

Gathering up all my strength and straightening up, I walk back to her table. Of my own accord entirely, too, because the pointed looks Sally has been giving me had no influence in my decision, at all.

"Do you need anything else?" I ask her, my voice neutral. I fiddle with the strings of my apron – they're so long I had to tie them in front – when she doesn't look up nor says anything. I clear my throat, jeez, way to make me feel awkward. "We have a special on chocolate cake," I blurt out and then immediately bite my tongue.

I hear her sniffle and then say, "Really." But it sounds kind of muffled and low.

I sigh, knowing she's not going to order anything and she's not going to say anything to me either so I leave. Sally looks at me expectantly, but I just shake my head, indicating that our only customer isn't in need of our service so we're back to our boredom.

But something is making me want to go back, which is just stupid since Max clearly doesn't want to talk to me. I stand around, alternating between going into the kitchen and then back to the stools in front of the cash register, all the while Max sits motionlessly in her booth.

Sally's about to go to her break and so she starts making her usual lunch, a strawberry-banana smoothie and a piece of chocolate cake, and I don't know what comes over me, but I take one of the drinks she made and a put a slice of cake on a plate and then go to where the love of my life - ha, just kidding, kind of - is at and sit across from her.

I place the cake and the drink down in front of me, and even though she didn't give any indication that she noticed me, I know she's aware of my presence.

I slide the food to her, and then cross my arms on the table and lean forward. She lowers her head even more and ignores me.

It's silent for such a long time, but I just stare at her, even though I can't see the top half of her face. She sits there, her hands in her pockets, leaning over the table, and her hood drawn up, not moving once. And then, a teardrop.

My breath catches in my throat.

It glides down the side of her nose, slowly down the contours of her lips, towards her chin, and then falls gently onto the table. She breathes in again through her stuffy nose, and then brings up her hands and pulls the hood of her jacket off before I can say a word.

She stares at me, through unflinching, puffy red eyes with the face of someone who has given up. Her hair is in disarray, windblown, the bottom half severely tangled, and the dark make up she presumably had on is smudged around the bottom and the sides of her eyes. But, god, even at her worse she still looks amazing to me.

"I'm not going to sleep with you."

I nearly flinch from the void in her voice, but instead I shrug. "Do many guys offer you cake and a smoothie in return for sexual favors?"

I can tell she wants to roll her eyes, but for some reason she holds back. "I'm not up for playing games right now, so just leave me alone."

"What makes you think I'm playing games?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, you mind telling me why you're here, then?" she inquires, now glaring at me.

I smirk. "I work here."

This time she doesn't refrain from rolling her eyes. "Smartass. You know what I mean."

"I'm lonely, you're lonely." I shrug, and then move the cake so it's in between us. I grab a fork and take a piece of it. "I'm also hungry, and I figure you might be too."

I want to ask so badly why she's crying, but I know she won't tell me and it's not necessarily my business, so I don't. Instead I pretend that it's like any other meeting.

"I didn't make the cake, but it's good," I tell her eventually, after I eat about half of it and she still hasn't touched it.

"That's fantastic. Now leave," she demands, glaring at me.

I ignore her. Which makes her even more mad. I grin.

But then she blows air through her nose, irritated, and moves so that she can get out of the booth. I grab her wrist before she can. She looks back at me with derision, but I just tug her hand once more and after a second she settles back down.

We stare at each other, I'm doing this half in admiration, and half because I honestly don't know what to say. I bet she's thinking of ways to knock me out, so she can leave.

"I brought the smoothie for you," I tell her and let go of her hand.

"Why are you doing this?" she asks finally, her tone resigned. She glances at the smoothie and then reaches for it. She sips it and then, deciding it's good, keeps it to herself. I smile inwardly, glad that she's in some way accepting me being here.

"I want to be your friend," I confess, feeling like a first grader again.

She stares at me with slightly wide eyes, looking genuinely surprised. Maybe she thinks I'm not good enough to be associated with her, or she doesn't think that I'm being honest. Just as my thoughts are getting deeper into the paranoia level she says, "Just a friend. Not friend with benefits?"

I shake my head slowly. I'd actually love for her to be my girlfriend, but I'm not going to go through that humiliation again. "Just a friend," I confirm.

She bites her lip and then sips at the smoothie again. "Give me a good reason."

"I'm trustworthy. And I'm not trying to sleep with you," I add when she looks at me dubiously.

She smirks. "So you're not going to try to ask me out again?"

My heart skips a beat. Well at least now I know that she remembers me. "No," I grin. "Not unless you want me to."

She spends a long time drinking the smoothie until she finally says, "Fine. I'll give you a chance."

My heart cries out in glee. Not like the TV show Glee, with music and all, but more like it's yelling "YES!" and it's going to burst because I'm so happy. But I'm cool, and I can't have her regretting her decision so I just nod and smirk back at her.

Then I take the smoothie out of her hands, drink it, and push it back to her. She stares at me, confused, and then shrugs and drinks it too, where now our precious germs are intertwined. Uh, never mind, that sounds kind of wrong. But still.

"I like strawberry-banana," she tells me, smiling. "How'd you know?"

"I like to stalk you in my spare time."

She looks taken aback for a few seconds, but then starts laughing. "A true stalker would know that my favorite mixed drink is raspberry and orange." Interesting, I file it away in my mind for future reference.

I point to the now melted untouched iced tea. "Is that why you ordered that?"

She glances at it and shakes her head. "I didn't order anything, but the lady said she'd start me off with that to get me going." That sounds just like Sally, deceitful. Max looks back at me. "I'm not paying for any of this either, since I didn't actually ask for it."

I smile. "Is that a bird I hear?" She furrows her eyebrows. I continue, "Cheap, cheap, cheap." Then she starts laughing, and I notice her eyes are nearly cleared up. They're a little puffy around the edges still, but they're no longer red.

Max rolls her eyes. "I have the money, I'm just not going to fall for this type of scam."

I grin. "Oh well, I guess there's always the one person who's going to beat the system."

Her entire demeanor changes suddenly, going from playful to stoic in a second. I'm wary of the change, but I continue on as if I didn't notice.

"My shift's over," I say.

She takes out her phone and, seeing the time, stands up. It's then that I notice she's wearing a black formal skirt.

She must have noticed my staring because she says, "I don't know how you thought I was a man when I was wearing a skirt, but hey, I don't judge." Then she shrugs.

I stand up too and scoff. "Who wears a hoodie and a skirt?"

"So now you're a fashion police?" I roll my eyes at her, and then follow once she starts walking out.

"I'm just saying." Max heads out, and I quickly clock out, take off my apron and hurry after her. Out in the parking lot I notice that her car isn't there; it's a black mustang, fairly new.

I glance at my own car, alone in the desolate parking lot. I'm not ashamed of it, a Ford F-150, but what if she sees it as not luxurious enough?

I swallow my nerves and ask her, "Do you need a ride?"

Max looks down at her phone again, types something out and then says, "No, I have someone coming to pick me up."

"Oh."

"Well, thanks anyway, for offering and for the smoothie," she says distractedly and then starts to take off the hoodie. I'm respectful so I don't blatantly stare at her as she does so, but out of the corner of my eye I see that she basically has on an outfit that makes her look like a secretary.

Oh god, if she were my secretary. The things I would do to her. She catches me staring and raises an eyebrow.

I shrug and tell her, "What, I can't appreciate beauty when I see it?"

She starts laughing. "You're weird, Fang. First you make me think you're shy, and then you have me thinking that you're overly cocky."

I hold in a smile. "You bring out the worst in me."

She smirks. "Sure, you better get going."

"I'll wait with you."

"Don't. This might take a while."

"All the more reason."

She sighs exasperatedly. "Seriously, just go. I don't need your protection."

Knowing what I now know about her, then yeah she most definitely does not need my protection. But I'm not about to tell her that I want to stay just because I want to keep on talking to her. So I tell her, "Okay, give me your number and then I'll leave."

"Sure, whatever," she answers and once I bring out my phone she snatches it out of my hands, puts in her number, and shoves it back at me without even looking at me.

She doesn't say anything else, so I make my way over to my car, and right before I'm about to open the door, Max calls out, "See you later, Fang."

I smile back at her. "See you." Then after debating for a few seconds, I add, "I'm glad I could make you stop crying."

Her gaze fixates on mine, her expression slightly closed off, but then a corner of her mouth tilts up and she softly mutters, "Thanks."

We stare at each other for a few seconds and then she looks away. I take that as my cue to leave, so I get into my truck and pull out, watching as she starts walking in the direction of the park.

**.**

The house still has a ton of food lying around. It's everywhere: the kitchen, the living room, dining room, even on the floor. I maneuver around it, not wanting to touch it all, and silently make my way up to my room. I should make a bunch of noise, but then I'd get into more trouble than I'm already in and I just really want to avoid everyone.

Just as I'm about to turn the knob to my door, I hear a stern voice say, "Max."

I take a deep breath, release the knob, and turn towards my mother. "What?" I ask, not nicely.

Still dressed in the appropriate attire for the day, she crosses her arms and hisses, "Don't even bother coming back if you're going to be coming in this late."

I scowl at her and push my door open. "If it were up to me, I wouldn't ever come back at all."

I walk into my room and shut the door loudly, but not before she says to me, "You and I both."

I sit down on my bed, bring my knees under my chin, and wrap my arms around my legs. In the distance, I can hear the baby crying, other voices joining in with my mom's, and then the angry whispers and tired sighs. In the privacy of my room, I finally let the tears fall.

* * *

_Disclaimer: Characters are owned by James Patterson. _

_I feel like it's only been two weeks since I posted this story. Well, college, you know. Did you guys like this chapter?_


	4. Raving

**CHAPTER 4: RAVING**

_Max was sitting next to her younger sister Ella, across from her older sister Maya, and diagonal from her other older sister Elena. Her mother was at one head of the table, her father in the other, and her grandmother refused to eat pork so she was having tea outside. _

_They ate silently until Max's mother's voice tore through the air. "Max," she said coldly, distant, "sit up straight and move your hair out of your eyes." Max did as she was told. Her sisters lowered their eyes. _

_They resumed. Max thought to herself: _Just finish as fast as you can.

_"Maya, have you decided whether to go to St. Anne's or Willard's?" her mother asked with a smile._

_Max looked up and into Maya's eyes. She stared back with a resigned look and Max knew her answer. _

_"I want to go to Willard Academy," she answered. _

_As their mother praised Maya for her choice, Max's shoulders drooped. She was no longer hungry. _

_"May I be excused?" she interrupted. Her mother shot her a dark glare._

_"You haven't finished yet."_

_"I'm full."_

_Her father, who was busy with a phone call, made a gesture for her to go. Max nodded and left before she could be stopped. _

_She noticed her mother clenching her fork tightly out of the corner of her eye._

_She stepped outside towards the gazebo; where her grandma was at._

_Max found her reading a book and having finished all the tea. She put down her book once she saw Max coming up to her. _

_"What's wrong with you?" she asked, not too harshly. _

_Max sighed and sat next to her. "Maya chose New York." _

_Her grandma nodded for her to continue. _

_"She's going to be gone all year now," Max cried. _

_Her grandma, whose name was Joanne, rolled her eyes. "She'll be back for breaks and for summer vacation." _

_"But it's not enough."_

_"You'll have Ella and Elena here with you."_

_"But I want Maya here too."_

_"You don't need Maya. You have your other sisters and Maya will come visit when she can." Max still looked crestfallen. "And I'm here too. Or would you rather go with her and leave me alone?"_

_Max was taken aback. "No! I want both of you here."_

_"Well I'll be here for you, but Maya chose for herself to leave and you have to accept that."_

_"Mom's going to pick on me more now," Max confessed."When Maya's around she's not so mean."_

_Joanne's eyes narrowed. She wasn't aware of how observant Max was to Valencia's behavior around her. _

_In a rare display of affection, Joanne wrapped her arms around the young girl. "Like I said, I'll be here for you even when Maya leaves." _

_"Forever?" Max asked. _

_"For as long as I can," she answered. Max closed her eyes and hoped desperately that things would get better._

_**.**  
_

"What do people usually wear to a rave?" Gazzy asks me. I shrug and gesture to my own outfit: black jeans, black shirt, and black shoes. Gazzy shakes his head at me and continues looking through Iggy's drawers.

Iggy walks in, shirtless, trying to write some words on his chest with a purple marker.

"What are you doing?" I ask him. So far he's only written an 'F' and an 'R', but they are slightly different sizes and they're crooked. He looks up at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He grins wolfishly and spreads out his arms before him like he's about to present something. "Free kisses, baby!"

"Are you kidding me? No one's going to want to kiss your skinny ass," Gazzy tells him.

"It's true," I tell Iggy, smirking. "You should put your shirt back on before someone confuses you for a victim of anorexia."

Iggy scoffs and resumes writing in terrible strokes. "That's not what the ladies say."

"The ladies don't say anything because they don't go near you."

Iggy glares at both Gazzy and I, and we start laughing.

"Whatever, if you had a sister Fang, she'd be all up on me," Iggy says, pretending to do a hair flip.

"A sister of mine wouldn't have such bad taste."

"Ooh, burn!" Gazzy yells, like the 15 year old that he is. Iggy hits him upside the head which then makes Gazzy punch Iggy in the stomach and then they're pulling ears, twisting arms, and throwing each other onto the ground.

"I don't know why I hang out with you two," I tell them, maneuvering around them as they roll on the ground.

As Iggy has Gazzy in a chokehold he says, "Us manly men have to stick together."

"Oh, right. You're writing on yourself with purple and your brother has spent an hour trying to find something to wear. You're both very manly," I scoff.

Iggy grins and lets go of Gazzy.

At the end Gazzy ended up wearing the same thing I did and Iggy had to put on a shirt because he tried washing off what he'd already written and it just created a huge purple blob on his chest. We decided he'd get no chicks looking like that.

**.**

It's already dark by the time we arrive, but we could see the stadium already since it was so bright and there were probably thousands of people standing outside. The stadium itself was on the outskirts of the city and so the parking lot was huge and it was almost entirely full.

I drove in and out of lanes with Iggy yelling, "There's a spot over there!" and then once we got there it'd already be taken up.

The music was loud and finally, after about half an hour, we found a spot.

"The carnival this year is going to be fucking awesome!" Gazzy yells. He brushes a hand through his blonde hair, messing it up even further, and puts on a backpack. I don't know what he has in it and I don't think I want to know either in case he gets caught for carrying pyrotechnics or something.

Iggy straightens himself up and takes in a deep breath. "I am ready for this."

I shrug. "It'll probably be the same as last year."

"Whoa, pessimistic Polly," Iggy begins. I raise an eyebrow at him. "Just because Max didn't text back doesn't mean the rest of your life is going to be a bust."

I had only texted Max once since I had seen her at the diner, but she hadn't responded. It was a simple 'hey' and maybe she hadn't even known it was me. She wasn't even in the greatest of moods when I saw her so maybe she was still out of it and she didn't have time to text back. Yeah, that's definitely what happened.

I roll my eyes and then start laughing. "Since when have I been optimistic about anything?"

Iggy looks thoughtful and then says, "Yeah, you're right. Let's go." And then he walks off and we follow.

As I get closer, I notice that a lot of the girls are wearing bikinis and many guys are shirtless. Sluts and douche-bags, I label them.

Except the girls are hot. Some of them eye me up as I pass and I smirk right back. I swear one of them must have stopped breathing. That's a little concerning .

When we pay for our tickets and we finally get into the stadium, I am awestruck. There are literally thousands of people walking around wearing the weirdest shit. Like, seriously some people have full-on animals costumes, others are painted up with bright colors, others have feathers on their heads, some have metal-looking clothes, and a lot of them have barely any clothes on at all. Not that I really mind, but still.

We make our way to the biggest stage where there are neon lights flashing up and down and around the crowd and there's smoke coming out of the sides. The rides on the sides of the crowd are also lit up and it makes it all feel like we're in a dream.

The people are jumping up and down, yelling, a lot of them are making out, and others are dancing with their hands up and bobbing their heads from side to side.

I had said it was going to be just like last year and I wasn't lying, except I wasn't being pessimistic. Feeling the bass reverberate through your bones, listening to the beats practically being ingrained into your head, and having a bunch of girls want to make out with you is awesome.

Except I don't really dance. I just stand while a girl dances around me usually.

Iggy, on the other hand, has put on his LED gloves and is doing some complex movements while Gazzy is just fist-pumping.

Right on cue I feel a girl's arms snake up my back to my shoulders. I look behind me and see a girl that looks slightly familiar. She has medium-length brown hair and brown eyes. She's kind of short, I notice. She moves so that she stands in front of me.

She looks up at me with what I think are meant to be sultry eyes and then she starts dancing. I grin at her. She's kind of pretty, I guess.

I'm watching her and the people around me when out of nowhere this huge guy comes and grabs the girl roughly by her arm.

I have two options: pretend I didn't see or…

"Hey!" I yell at him, moving forward to separate them. The girl looks up and grimaces. "Leave her alone," I grind out. The guy sneers at me and shoves me away.

I won't lie and say I'm the strongest guy out there, because I'm not, but this guy was clearly competing for the title and so that shove actually pushed me back a few feet. Iggy sees this and he comes over.

"What's going on?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in concern.

I rub my chest from where the guy shoved me and gesture to the guy in question.

Iggy sees the girl and his eyes widen and his jaw drops a little. I look back, thinking that maybe the guy hit her, judging by Iggy's reaction, but he's only yelling at the girl. Iggy's features harden and he marches over to them. I follow and I hear Iggy saying in a serious voice, "If you don't let her go I'll call security and you'll get kicked out."

"Wait, no," the girl objects. She bites her lip and glances nervously between the three of us and then at Gazzy when he arrives. "He's actually taking care of me. I wasn't supposed to wander off."

I furrow my brows. "And it's alright for him to treat you like this?"

"It shouldn't matter to you how I treat her, dick," the guy yells at me.

I stand up straighter. "It matters if you're hurting her," I tell him.

The girl rips her arm away from his grip and says, "He's not. He was just worried. I'm sorry for this. We'll be leaving now."

Iggy locks gazes with her and says, "Be careful."

The guy rolls his eyes. "C'mon, Ella," he orders. He grabs her again, and nearly drags her away.

I shake my head at their retreating forms.

"She is beautiful," I hear Iggy murmur.

"What?"

Iggy turns to me and shakes his head quickly. "Nothing. What were you doing with her anyway?"

I eye him warily. "Just dancing."

Gazzy shrugs and says, "That has got to be the most boring confrontation ever."

I hit his shoulder. He glares at me and then walks off into the crowd.

Iggy is energized, jumping from foot to foot, and then he tells me, "Hey man, I'll be back. I have to go do something."

Before I can ask him anything, he runs off in the direction of the Ella and the guy. I knew it. I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid, like try to pick a fight with the dude. Iggy's a scrawny guy and he would definitely be on the losing end of that deal.

While I contemplate going after him or not, my shirt gets gripped from behind and suddenly I'm being pulled away.

"What the fuck?"

My first thought is that the guy has friends and he sent them to come beat me up, but then a girlish voice says, "It's me."

And I can't believe my ears. She lets go of my shirt and I turn around to come face to face with Max. All thoughts about following Iggy flee my mind and all my attention is on Max.

Her eyes are a little blood-shot, but not like that time at the diner, and she says, "Come with me."

Before I have the time to process a single thought , she's walking away and I'm following closely behind.

She winds through the crowd as if they're not even there and people move over as I pass as well. She walks really fast, but my legs are long so I keep up easily.

Eventually, after a lot of bumping and many girls – and some guys – trying to grope me, Max stops near a door. It's just a normal door except it doesn't seem to have a handle.

"Hold on," Max tells me and then knocks twice, then once, and then again three times. The door opens and Max gestures for me to go with her.

I should be suspicious, I know, but how many times does the girl of your dreams ask you to follow her?

I step into the room, leaving behind the deafening noise of the music and the shouts of the crowd, and see about ten people standing around, drinking, smoking, and making out. Are these the type of people Max hangs out with?

Max looks at some people distastefully and then sits down on a bench in a corner. I don't know what I'm supposed to do so I follow her example and sit next to her. The room is obviously some type of office and a huge one at that. There are some trophies behind a case and a desk on one wall where a girl and a guy are groping each other.

Max leans back and closes her eyes, breathing out slowly. I notice then that she's not dressed like everyone else. She's just wearing a pair of dark-washed jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. The fabric clings onto her. I would say I did the right thing and looked away, but instead I stare like she is being displayed just for me.

She opened her eyes suddenly and stretched. Her arms above her head and her legs pointed out made her torso elongate and arch which gave me a view of her perfect flat stomach and her chest. I would've blushed if I had the capability. Instead I just raise an eyebrow and say, "Is there a reason you brought me here?"

Max brings her arms down and shrugs. "You looked lost out there." Likely story.

"Or maybe you just wanted my company," I counter, teasing her.

She freezes for a moment but quickly regains her composure. "Don't flatter yourself," she tells me jokingly. "I figure you're not so bad, so why not take you out of that dump outside and bring you where the real party is."

I raise an eyebrow and scoff. I gesture to the people around us. "This is what constitutes a party?" There's no real music on since the one from outside can still be heard, but otherwise it just looks like any normal group of friends hanging out together.

"To me a party means alcohol," Max says, shrugging. She stands up and heads to a table that I hadn't noticed that has some half-empty bottles. Oh, I guess I am pessimistic. She picks one up. "I can't get any of this out _there_, but we have plenty here." She grins.

I shouldn't be drinking since I'm the one driving so I raise my hand and shake my head. Max rolls her eyes. "If you don't want to stay you can always leave."

I don't even entertain the thought, so I just shrug.

"There's also some joints over there if you like that," she points to a group of guys who are high out of their minds, leaning against the wall with their eyes closed.

"No, I'm good," I tell her.

She must have seen something in my expression because she says, a bit peeved, "What, too good for you?"

I'm taken aback, but I don't show it. Why did she get so defensive? "I'm sober for tonight."

"Oh, okay," Max says, her previous mood back. She fills a cup for herself and sits down next to me again.

"Why did you come if you were just going to hole yourself up in here?" I ask her after a few minutes of silence. Not that I don't want to be there with her, just her presence is enough for me, but I did pay $140 to get in.

"I like the music. The people not so much," she answers. She sips at her drink. "To be honest, I wasn't planning on coming at all, but my sister did and she's two years younger so my parents...asked me to come with her." I didn't know she had a sister.

Max points out the guy making out with the girl on the table. "He works here and got us this place so I figured I'd come and make the best of it."

"So which one's your sister?" I ask, looking around for someone who looks similar to Max.

Max shakes her head. "She's out there somewhere."

I scoff. "You're doing a good job of taking care of her."

Max's jaw tightens and so does her grip on her cup. "She can take care of herself," she says under her breath.

"Okay," I say, kind of awkwardly. I'm not one to pry, so I don't.

"Where's your other half?" she asks me.

Panic sets in. Does she think I'm taken? Because I'm not, I want to tell her. If she wants to get with me she totally can. "Who?"

"The guy with the blonde hair," she clarifies.

I'm about to answer when I remember that she was never around when I was with him. "Well first, I'm straight." This information is imperative to her. "And secondly, how do you know about him?"

Max laughs. "Hey, I'm not the stalker here, but I did notice you around school when I used to go with you."

Wow. She noticed me before. Ugh, I sound like a teenage girl. But this is crucial. She noticed me before. Yeah, I'm happy now. Let it be known to everyone that I can die happy now. Well maybe if I kissed her just once then I'd die happy.

Max is staring at me and I remember her question. "Oh, he went chasing after some girl."

Max laughs. "So the two of you are exactly alike."

I smirk. "No, for me it's more like the girls are doing the chasing."

She scoffs and downs the rest of her drink. "It seems like the cocky side of you is back. But I wouldn't doubt that." She eyes me up and down and I feel like the air is too hot. "You're decent."

"Decent?" I ask, curious.

Max shrugs. "Sure. Maybe you're trying a little too hard for the bad boy image, but you're all right."

I furrow my brows. "I'm not trying for anything. This is how I am."

Max rolls her eyes. "I was joking." She eyes me curiously and then stands up quickly. "Hey, you want to go somewhere with me?"

I stare at her in bewilderment. "I'm already here, aren't I?"

She sighs exasperatedly. "Obviously, but I mean somewhere else. Outside of the stadium."

I think of the money I paid to get in here. It was a lot. She probably sees this on my face because she says, "Don't worry. You can sneak back in later."

It almost seems like I'm trying to get out of going with her, which I don't want, but I have to say it. "I'm my friends' ride." There, I hope Iggy and Gazzy appreciate what I'm sacrificing for them.

Grinning wryly, she says, "We'll take my car so they don't think you ran off without them." I'm speechless. "There? Or do you have any other demands? You'll like what we're going to do. I swear." She smiles at me almost mischievously.

And now I'm intrigued.

I grin at her and shake my head slowly. Standing up, I follow her out of the room and into the parking lot and then eventually slide into her Mustang.

As she shifts into first gear – god, she looks sexy driving a stick-shift – she looks at me out of the corner of her eye, looking a bit nervous, but then the look fades and she smiles softly at me. I can't help but to smile back.

**.**

Don't do this Max, I tell myself. Don't do it. He seems like a good guy. A genuinely good guy. A dark thought crosses through my mind. He's not like that, I tell myself. But really, how much do I know about him? Not much. What am I even doing?

I can tell he's looking at me. He's not actually hiding this fact, which is a little unnerving, and it's making me kind of nervous. Should I go through with it? But I've already taken so many chances. Just one more, I decide, almost like a voice in my head made the decision for me.

At the last second, instead of going left, towards my house, I make a right turn.

You're so stupid, Max, I think to myself. So stupid. I can already feel myself regretting this.

* * *

_Disclaimer: Characters are owned by James Patterson._

_Not my best chapter. I'm a semi-English major and the weekly 10 page essays have been taking up my time, sorry. I get out in 4 weeks, so more writing time then. Youtube 'EDC Las Vegas' for what the carnival thing is like. What did you guys think?_


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